Just the Girl
by Hypothetical Situation
Summary: An innocent sketch of his crush falls into the wrong hands, exposing the truth sooner than he had ever expected. A/H. Songfic - 'Just the Girl' The Click Five.


A/N: Wow, it's really been forever since I've posted, huh? This fic has actually been in the making for YEARS now…it's the first _Hey Arnold! _story I drafted back in 2007 and it's honestly been a work in progress up until the middle of last year. Now I'm finally getting around to posting it after graduating from college and starting up grad school a few weeks ago. PHEW! I hope you all like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the _Hey Arnold!_ series.

* * *

The brisk winter air sent a chill down Arnold's spine as he walked toward the bus stop. Gusts of wind continued to whip his hair, despite the hood of his thick jacket wrapped around his football-shaped head. Each step he took left a small imprint in the thin layer of snow that continued to form on the ground. By the time he reached the bus stop, a long line of footprints trailed behind him on the sidewalk. Arnold stopped walking and took a seat on a snow-speckled bench under a small, leafless tree, exactly where the school bus would pick him up. Once his elbows rested comfortably on his knees, he let his gaze wander along the street.

Arnold loved the wintertime – it was the season he looked forward to the most. He loved the way the scent of the air changed, a sign that winter was most definitely here. He loved how every snowflake that fell from the sky softly blanketed everything around him. He even loved the bitter walks he took every morning to get to the bus stop. Most of all, he loved reminiscing about his past as he watched the younger children in his neighborhood play in the snow. To Arnold, it seemed like it was only yesterday that he was the same age, running around and having a good time with his elementary school friends.

He sighed, finding himself drifting off to the precious memories of his past. Throughout the four years he had been attending high school, he never thought his attention could slip so easily; but it seemed that even the tiniest thing could trigger a full-blown flashback to his carefree childhood days. As he continued to look around the street, he couldn't help but remember all of the snow days he and his friends took advantage of, having sled races and seeing who could build the best snowman.

The sound of the school bus tires sloshing through the wet snow snapped Arnold out of his reverie. Its automatic doors had frozen shut and didn't open on cue, giving him enough time to stand from the bench and collect his bearings. Finally, the doors broke apart from one another, revealing an obese old man in a blue button-up shirt and black wrinkled pants. The frown on his face gave Arnold the impression that he didn't enjoy the snow as much as the football-headed boy did. Not wanting to make the bus driver any angrier than he already was, Arnold sprinted up the four steep bus steps and took a seat near the front.

As soon as he was seated, the bus doors slammed shut and the engine made an unpleasant noise as it began its journey down the road. Instead of voicing his concern about the strained engine to the driver, Arnold turned his head toward the frosted window on his right. With a small smile, he rolled down the sleeve of his jacket so that it covered his entire hand and began to wipe the glass. Slowly the outside world came into view, hypnotizing Arnold with breathtaking images of snow-covered trees and buildings. In what seemed like a matter of seconds, he found himself staring at a familiar house – Helga's. _I must have been really out of it not to notice the other four stops_, he thought.

The tall, slender blonde climbed up the bus steps under the blond boy's watchful eyes. She wore a long, pink winter coat that managed to show off her body, despite its bulkiness. Her black jeans had the same effect as her coat, showing off her skinny legs and hugging the right spots. She swung her head violently in Arnold's direction. Her gaze seemed to soften as her eyes made contact with his. Arnold noticed the large pile of snow atop her head, reminding him of whipped cream on a mound of banana ice cream. He smiled at his silly metaphor, and Helga seemed to smile back. But, just as quickly as it appeared, the smile was lost in a deep scowl.

She stomped down the aisle, her fiery eyes fixed on Arnold. Swiftly averting his eyes, Arnold peered out the window to try and avoid any tormenting from his life-long bully. No such luck, however, as Helga plopped herself down in the seat behind his and began haphazardly brushing the snow from her hair, causing it to fall on Arnold's head and lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry Arnold. I didn't see you there," she murmured apologetically.

Arnold shrugged, ready to dismiss her apology, but a sharp voice interrupted him. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice that abnormal shaped head of yours?" Helga cackled, looking pointedly at him with devilish eyes. "Since you enjoy the snow so damn much, I thought a nice sprinkle above that odd looking head of yours would make you happy." Laughing at her own joke, she brushed the last few flakes off of her head and swept her blonde locks into a messy ponytail. "Stupid football head," she growled.

As she turned away, Arnold wiped the scattered snowflakes off of his lap and out of his own hair. He grumbled in frustration, yet didn't voice his anger toward her. He never did…

**She's cold and she's cruel,**

**But she knows what she's doin'.**

The bus came to a screeching halt in front of Hillwood High. Once more, the automatic doors had trouble opening right away, making the grumpy bus driver even grumpier. Arnold, completely free of the snowflakes Helga sprinkled on him earlier, slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped into the aisle. The riders all crammed into the small walkway, trying their best to be the first one off the bus. Arnold found himself hastily shoved toward the person in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, holding out his hands in defense.

He didn't have to turn around to know who had pushed him. "Move faster, football head. I don't have all day."

"Sorry," Arnold mumbled.

With small, shuffled steps, he finally found his way to the front of the bus. As he descended the stairs, he heard a chuckle; one that was all but seared into his memory. Before he had enough time to register the suspicious laughter, Arnold felt a strong force shove him off the bus. His feet landed solidly on the ground, but the icy walkways in front of the school made it impossible for him to maintain his balance for long. He threw his arms out in an attempt to steady himself. Eventually, he found his center of gravity and was able to stand up straight.

Helga emerged from the bus, holding her stomach and laughing hysterically. "Criminy, Arnold-o, you can't even walk without losing your balance! What a loser!" She strolled past him, not once stumbling on the icy ground below her. Arnold was amazed, wondering if all those dance lessons she took throughout middle school helped her with that. He knew those same dancing lessons certainly helped sculpt parts of her body to absolute perfection…

Gerald's voice broke Arnold from his impure thoughts. "Come on, man! We're gonna be late! And you know that Fish Face doesn't like when you're late to his class," he shouted.

The football headed boy smiled at the nickname he and Gerald gave their first period teacher. On the first day of school, Mr. Titan had successfully made the well-known "fish face" twenty eight times, earning him the humorous nickname. By now, the whole English class knew about it, yet the teacher himself was, thankfully, unaware.

Arnold kept a close eye on his shuffling feet as he slowly made his way toward the building. He balanced himself with each step, trying his hardest not to fall. When he reached the front of the building, he quickened his pace and tried tackling the front steps two at a time. However, the ice on the stairs proved just as difficult as the sidewalk, forcing him to grab the railing and use it as an anchor.

Not too far from the struggling boy, Helga watched in amusement. She turned to Phoebe and whispered something into her ear. Phoebe narrowed her eyes and gave her a stern, displeased look, both of which Helga seemed to ignore. The blonde strode over to the wobbling boy with a smirk on her face.

"Hey football head!" she screeched, effectively gaining his attention. "Don't fall!"

Seconds later, Helga thrust her arms forward and shoved Arnold down the ice covered stairs. This time, Arnold failed to land on his feet, but instead fell with a large thud into an enormous pile of snow gathered at the end of the stairs. The coldness surrounded him completely and sent shivers down his spine. From his position, he saw Helga walking away and laughing in pleasure. Onlookers smiled or chuckled in passing but did not offer a hand.

Arnold sighed in defeat and made no attempt to get out of the freezing snow. In fact, he had no desire to. The chill that encompassed his body and the stunt that put him there reminded him of a not so distant past. Forgetting about school and his first period teacher, he let his thoughts drift once again…

**She pushed me into the pool**

**At our last school reunion**

_The sun was bright in the cloudless sky, the stagnant pool water shimmering from its rays. Despite the untouched water, dozens of students were hanging out on beach chairs around the perimeter. Reminiscent of a middle school dance where everybody is too frightened to start dancing, nobody had enough courage to be the first one to jump into the water._

_It was all Mr. Simmons' idea. The elementary school teacher was planning on retiring from his career at a young age to pursue his dreams of becoming a botanist. So, before he disappeared for good, he talked with the principal of Hillwood High and arranged a "special class reunion" for his "favorite class" at the local public pool. The students from his "favorite class" were now sophomores, soon to be juniors, and couldn't care less about giving their teacher a fair goodbye._

_Mr. Simmons exited the bathroom, prepared to motivate the teenagers to have a good time inside the pool instead of out. "Hello, class!" he began to cheer. "What's with all the glum faces? You all should be in the pool and having a good time!"_

_As he strutted toward the shallow end of the pool, all eyes remained locked on Simmons. Snickers emerged from the crowd of young adults as they took in his awkward apparel – purple swim trunks with white and pink flowers. Mr. Simmons hesitantly stuck his big toe into the glistening water and then immediately pulled back his whole leg. His body began to shake and his teeth were audibly chattering. The snickers grew into chuckles._

_From the other end of the pool, Arnold's green eyes were fixed solely on Helga. He was amazed at the sight of her in a tiny pink bikini, the strings on either side of her hips swaying with every step she took. Her pale skin stood out in comparison to all of the other bronze girls, along with her curly blonde hair that currently was in a messy bun atop her head. Arnold couldn't look away no matter how hard he tried._

_Gerald walked up beside him, patting Arnold's shoulder lightly. "Mmm-mmm-mmm. You're one crazy kid, Arnold. Look, if you ever want something to happen, you've gotta walk over there and start a conversation!"_

_The smitten boy sighed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Gerald, I guess you're right."_

_Without wasting any more time, Arnold rose from his seat and began walking around the pool's edge, careful not to slip on any of the beach towels that were thrown about. When he reached her table, he noticed that the other girls nearby were giving him odd looks._

"_Hey," he said nervously._

_For no longer than a second, Arnold noticed a hint of surprise on Helga's face. But like always, it disappeared before Arnold could fully appreciate its presence. "What do _you _want, football head?" she snapped._

"_Uh…" Arnold searched his mind for a decent conversation starter, but instead blurted out the first thing he could think of. "Nice weather we're having, don't you think?"_

_Helga's expression remained the same, causing Arnold to doubt his decision of talking to her in the first place. He knew it would be hard to let the true Helga shine through her thick outer shell. Feeling rejected, he slowly turned away from her and began shuffling away._

_Suddenly, an evil glint sparkled in Helga's eyes. She jolted from her seat and tapped the retreating Arnold on the shoulder. He turned around, shocked to see that she followed him._

_Helga broke out into an apologetic smile and said, "I'm sorry about my attitude back there, Arnold. The sun must be getting to my head."_

_Arnold shrugged, accepting her apology with a smile of his own. "That's okay, Helga."_

"_Let me make it up to you." Before Arnold had the chance to speak again, Helga cleared her throat loudly. "Hey! Everyone! I have some great news! Arnold here just told me that he would volunteer to jump into the pool first and test out the water for us. Doesn't that sound great?"_

_Small echoes of approval floated about the crowd. Arnold, completely taken aback by Helga's words, immediately started protesting the idea. "Wait, I didn't -"._

_His words were cut off as Helga shoved him off the ledge of the pool. Seconds later, his body met with the chilled water, engulfing him entirely. Muffled by the water were sounds of laughter coming above the surface. Arnold let his body float in the water a while longer, admiring Helga's art for deceit. Whether her actions were kind and courteous or mean and deceiving, she never ceased to amaze him…_

**She laughs at my dreams,**

**But I dream about her laughter.**

Someone cleared their throat, shaking Arnold from his daydream. He opened his eyes to find Helga standing over his body. She had one hand on her small hip, an annoyed sneer plastered on her face.

"Fish Face is pissed. He sent me out here to get you," she explained.

Slowly, Arnold maneuvered his way out of the snow pile, only to find that his clothes were visibly soaked through. "How long have I been out here for?" he asked.

"Too long for Fish Face's liking. Come on, let's go," Helga snapped at him. She started walking up the front steps of the school, but turned back when she realized Arnold wasn't following her. "What's the deal, football head?" she cried. "Criminy, I don't have all day, you know!"

"Helga, I can't go to class looking like this," Arnold explained, pointing to his soaked clothing. "I'm gonna have to call Grandpa and have him bring me a change of clothes." He pulled out his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, thankful for his water-proof phone case, as Helga scoffed off into the building. Minutes later, the familiar green Packard pulled up in front of the school, Grandpa behind the wheel and a fresh stack of clothes on the passenger seat.

After a quick change into the dry clothes, Arnold raced toward his first period class. All eyes were set on him as he opened the door and quietly made his way to his desk. Mr. Titan stopped writing on the chalkboard and turned to give Arnold his signature look – the "fish face."

"Mr. Titan, I'm so sorry I'm late for class. I was pushed-".

The middle-aged teacher tilted his chin upwards and motioned for his student to sit down. "Please, Arnold. Spare me the excuses. I expect you to be in my classroom by the end of the day, prepared to write a five-page essay on why it is important to be on time," he lectured.

With a defeated sigh, Arnold dragged himself toward his empty desk in the third row. Once Mr. Titan returned to writing the current assignment on the board, Gerald leaned forward in his seat and whispered in Arnold's ear, "Man, what were you doing outside for so long? I _told _you Fish Face doesn't like it when we're late. What happened?"

Arnold shrugged. "I don't know, Gerald. My mind got the best of me. I started thinking back to our sophomore year…at that class reunion. Where Helga pushed me into the pool, remember?"

Gerald shook his head. "Arnold, you need to learn to get your head out of the clouds. Either you take some action or you deal with the consequences," he reasoned to his best friend, who agreed with a slight nod.

The remainder of first period went by at a snail's pace for Arnold. Mr. Titan's discussion about their current reading book did nothing to capture the blond boy's attention. Grabbing a pencil from his backpack, he began to doodle in the margins of the paper that held what little notes he had taken from the discussion.

After doodling throughout most of his classes in high school, Arnold had discovered his ability to draw fairly well. Instead of drawing random hearts and squiggles like most doodles started off as, he drew people. He enjoyed sketching the familiar faces of friends and family – it gave him a sense of comfort that scribbles could never provide.

Currently, he found himself absentmindedly sketching a female. Soon, her features resembled those of his childhood bully. A scowl took over her features in the drawing. Frowning, Arnold flipped his pencil over and lightly erased her mouth. Putting the lead point back on the paper, he breathed in slightly. Closing his eyes, he searched his memory for a time when her rare smile presented itself. The treasured memories caused him to smile as well. When he opened his eyes, Helga was staring up at him from the page with a grin just like his own. Arnold loved her smile…

"Arnold, are you with us?" questioned Mr. Titan from the front of the room.

Arnold's eyes darted quickly from the drawing and straight into Fish Face's dull brown gaze. "Sorry," the boy whispered, bowing his head in shame.

The teacher gave a huff of annoyance and resumed his lecture. Arnold glanced at the board and, seeing how much of the lecture notes he missed because of his doodling, began furiously jotting down everything he could.

A faint chuckle echoed behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helga smirking. "What's the matter, Arnold-o? Too busy thinking about the bright side of things?"

Arnold willed himself to ignore Helga's taunting. He looked back at the drawing of the smiling girl he wished would come out of her shell more often. _If only you knew…_

**Strange as it seems,**

**She's the one I'm after.**

The final bell echoed throughout the entire school, signaling the end of the day. Many students raced toward the door, itching to catch their bus and go home. As the hallways cleared out, one lone football-headed boy walked sullenly to his first period classroom, ready to face Mr. Titan's ridiculous five-page essay.

"Arnold, I'm glad you could make it," his English teacher greeted. A stack of white lined paper sat on one of the front desks, along with two pencils. As soon as Fish Face saw Arnold's passing glance at the materials, he added, "You didn't forget why you're here, correct?"

"No sir, I know exactly why I'm here," Arnold answered. He rushed toward the awaiting desk and sat down abruptly.

"Good." Fish Face moved to stand in front of the desk and put his hand on the tall stack of papers. "I know you're a good student, Arnold. Can I trust you to work diligently while I go copy some papers in the teacher's lounge?"

Arnold nodded. Mr. Titan made his signature face before collecting a manila folder from his briefcase. "I expect at least a full page when I get back," he said with a hiss. As the classroom door slammed behind him, Arnold reached for his backpack. He rapidly searched through his notebook and let out a small cheer of triumph when he found what he was looking for. Carefully, he tore five pages out of his notebook and held the up toward the ceiling. The title read, _Time is of the Essence – An Essay Establishing the Importance of the Clock_.

The blond was no idiot – he knew that it was next to impossible to finish a five-page essay in a measly two-hour detention, especially if it were to meet the standards of Mr. Titan. Luckily, most of his teachers that day did not plan much class work, giving him time to work on the essay during the majority of his school day. With all of the free time his classes offered added together, he was able to fully complete the essay and was proud of how it turned out. _All I have to do now is pretend to write the essay here. Easy._

Arnold grabbed one of the white lined pieces of paper that Fish Face had provided. With a clear vision in his head, he began to sketch. He first started with the feet. White boots, plain in every aspect. By adding some shading techniques, he made them look as if they were the real thing. Next, he drew jeans. Black colored material, a small flare and cuffs at the bottom, while the rest hugged the thighs. He then drew a thick winter coat, making sure it clung to the body in all the right places. Pulling a few colored pencils out of his backpack, Arnold lightly colored the coat with a light pink. Using both the yellow and gold colored pencils, he drew wavy blonde hair cascading down the shoulders of the coat.

Arnold didn't expect to hear the rattling of the doorknob as soon as he did. Quickly, he threw the colored pencils back into his bag and shoved his sketch underneath a page of his pre-written essay. Picking up a pencil, he positioned it over the page, pretending to be writing busily.

Mr. Titan looked relieved that Arnold was working studiously on the assignment. After shutting the door and walking to place the manila folder and a large pile of papers on the front table, the teacher yet again made his trademark pout and motioned toward the essay on Arnold's table. "How is the paper coming along?"

"It's going well," Arnold said with a nervous smile.

"Good. Keep it that way," Fish Face proclaimed.

For the rest of the detention, Arnold remained under careful watch by his teacher. So much so, that he did not get a chance to finish the sketch he began earlier. Each time the blond boy looked up from his essay, he found Mr. Titan's stern gaze upon him, barely blinking. _Creepy_, Arnold thought as he bowed his head once again.

**Cause she's bittersweet**

**She knocks me off of my feet**

**And I can't help myself**

**I don't want anyone else**

Arnold breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped outside. He had managed to successfully fool Mr. Titan into thinking he wrote his essay solely during the two-hour time period he was given. _What a whack job_. Pulling his jacket closer against his body, he carefully walked down the icy steps and began his journey back to the boarding house. With each step he took, the snow underneath his boots crunched, bringing a small smile to his face. Laughter filled his ears as he scanned the park across the street for its source, finding children galloping in the knee-high snow, enjoying it just as much as Arnold.

As he continued his walk home, more familiar sights met Arnold's eyes – children playing ice hockey on a slippery, desolate street; families buying hot chocolate from the local coffee shop; and his high school classmates making a snowman, only to treat it like a target and pelt it with snowballs a minute later. His smile grew wider as memories from his past flooded his mind.

Nearing the boarding house, Arnold shook the snowflakes off his head that had fallen there during his walk home. He climbed the stairs slowly, careful not to stumble on the ice and repeat the day's torturous events. Opening the door, he was greeted with a gust of warm air blowing hard at his face, making his body aware of just how cold it really was. Arnold quickly closed the door behind him before the cold air had a chance to make its way inside.

"Is that you, Shortman?" a shaky voice called out from the kitchen.

Arnold immediately threw off his shoes, not wanting to track snow into the house, and sauntered down the hallway to the kitchen. He greeted his grandfather, who sat at the table with an open newspaper in his hands.

"What took you so long to get home, Arnold? Did the bus break down or something?" Grandpa asked, returning his gaze back to the newspaper in front of him.

"No, my teacher gave me a two hour detention," Arnold said, reaching into the fridge to grab a drink.

Grandpa's head snapped up. "You got a detention? What for?" He paused, a sly smile forming. "Were you daydreaming in class again?"

Arnold sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it now, Grandpa. Sorry."

Grandpa rose from his seat to put a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Arnold. In fact, your father used to daydream all the time when he was a teenager." Arnold's eyes widened at the remark and the old man chuckled. "I guess you must have inherited that gene from him."

"I guess so," Arnold breathed out, unable to say much else.

"Well," Grandpa continued, "you better go upstairs and work on that homework of yours. Just don't start daydreaming about pretty girls again!" He cackled heartily.

Grabbing his backpack from the floor and rushing upstairs, Arnold thought to himself with a smile, _Trust me, Grandpa, she's more than pretty_…

**She's a mystery**

**She's too much for me**

**But I keep comin' back for more**

**She's just the girl I'm lookin' for**

With heavy breath, Arnold race toward the door of his first period class. Again, he had risked being late for Fish Face's class, albeit not on his own accord – he had a slight disagreement with the grouchy bus driver that caused him to stay longer than originally planned. As he reached the door marked "Room 142," he heard idle chatter coming from the other side. Hoping this was a sign that he was in the clear, Arnold opened the door.

Thankfully, he couldn't see Fish Face anywhere. _He must be late_, he thought, laughing at the irony. Arnold shut the door and made his way toward the empty seat next to Gerald. Immediately he noticed the chatter die down as he passed and could feel multiple sets of eyes following his every move. Glancing around, he saw a few of his classmates staring at him intently, some erupting in small fits of laughter.

"Gerald," he whispered as he sat down, "why is everybody looking at me like that?"

Gerald turned his chair to face his best friend. He placed his hand on Arnold's shoulder and leaned in, not wanting to make a scene. "My man, I'm afraid you've gotten yourself in some deep trouble."

Arnold blinked. "What? What did I do?" He scanned the room to find most of his classmates' stares were still directed at him, watching his reaction.

Shaking his head, Gerald said, "Maybe this will jog your memory?" He reached for his backpack on the ground and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it out and holding it up to Arnold.

"My sketch!" Arnold exclaimed, swiftly grabbing the paper out of Gerald's hands.

"I came into class today and a bunch of people were gathered around Harold's desk, laughing at it. I grabbed it before…well, I grabbed it before something even worse happened."

With the sketch still in his firm grasp, Arnold asked, "How did they know it was mine in the first place?"

"Think about it, Arnold. You were the last person to be in Fish Face's room yesterday, even after the janitor came to sweep the floors. And everybody knew it was you; we all saw you get that detention in class." A hearty laugh left Gerald's throat. "Plus, you're being kind of obvious now, man."

Arnold looked down at the sketch in his hand and flushed slightly. His eyes traveled to his classmates in the surrounding desks, now fully understanding their mocking gazes. The flush on his cheeks darkened.

Just then, the doorknob of the classroom door jiggled, marking the entrance of whoever was behind it. The wooden frame creaked as the door swung open, revealing a seemingly disgruntled Helga. Her heavy footsteps led her to her desk in the front of the classroom, where she sat with a huff.

A panic-stricken look crossed Arnold's face as reality smacked him hard. _Oh no_, Arnold thought, _this is not how I wanted her to find out_. He quickly shoved the crinkled drawing into his backpack, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

**She can't keep a secret**

**For more than an hour**

The shrill sound of the last bell echoed in Arnold's head. He was happy to finally be rid of the whispered gossip that followed him throughout the day. He approached his locker as if he were a horse with blinders, avoiding all possible confrontation that would pull him farther from the freedom that lay beyond school grounds. As he entered his combination into the lock, a dark shadow fell over him.

"I heard Gerald talking with Pheebs about your stupid drawing," Helga spat at him.

Arnold turned toward the girl. Her eyes were sharp and menacing, making him swallow hard in nervousness. He reached out to put a gentle hand on her arm. "Look, Helga…"

Helga retracted her arm and interrupted the boy. "Don't touch me!" Her jaw tightened in anger. "You're just so…so stupid, you know that?"

Arnold blinked, confused by her choice of words. "Helga, what are you talking about?"

She stared him down, taking in deep breaths through her nostrils. "Nothing," she finally huffed, shaking her head and walking away.

Not knowing what else to do, Arnold slammed his locker shut and ran after her. "Wait, let me explain," he called out, hoping to get her attention back.

Helga pivoted sharply on her feet. The rushing boy stopped in his tracks. "You don't have to explain, Arnold. I know what's going on." Her words were cold, and the use of his real name chilled him to the bone. She took slow steps toward him, wagging her finger accusingly at his face. "There are only two people in this entire school that have that designer Nancy Spumoni winter coat."

"Wha…" he breathed.

Helga scoffed and her hands fell to her sides. "Of course I would get my hopes up and think the girl in the drawing was me, but no, why would that ever happen?" This time, she spoke off to the side, an undertone of softness in her words.

Arnold shook his head, baffled by the turn of events. Desperate to give her the answers she was looking for, he pleaded, "Helga, you don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly!" she screeched, hands flailing once more. Arnold stepped backward to avoid being hit. "You're pining after some no-good tramp when I've been right in front of you for years!" Her eyes fumed with intense heat. "And with the same coat, no less! You've just been so stupid to see that I love y…" She trailed off as her eyes grew wide in realization. A quick breath of air left her and her eyes darted nervously around the hallway. Arnold stood frozen in front of her, not knowing how to respond. Suddenly, her body jerked backward as she raced down the hallway, away from the confused blond-haired boy.

Arnold remained trapped by his own circling thoughts, by Helga's unspoken words.

**She runs on 100 proof attitude power**

The bus idled in front of the school, ready to haul the exhausted students to their respective houses after a long day of learning. Cliques raced alongside one another toward the awaiting vehicle, trying to avoid the falling snow, but the white flakes only fell harder.

The front doors to the school swung open with force, revealing a scowling Helga. She shoved past a handful of students that stood in her way, but nobody dared speak against her actions; one look at her face and everybody averted their eyes, avoiding confrontation completely. Helga was not the type to lose an argument.

The snow seemed like less of a challenge for her as she effortlessly glided across the half-frozen sidewalk to the bus doors. She pounded on the glass, willing the bus driver to open up and let her on. Once the driver complied, Helga stormed up the stairs and quickly spotted a secluded seat near the back, claiming it as her own by plopping down and putting her feet up. Sighing, she looked out the window. Immediately, her eyes found the boy with the cornflower hair, and she watched him stumble carelessly across the icy sidewalk. She rolled her eyes, but a slight smile played on her lips.

Arnold suddenly collided with the bus door, slipping on a patch of ice a mere foot away. Rubbing his head to try and reduce the pain, he looked up through the glass doors and waited for the bus driver to let him on. He locked eyes with the driver, who immediately scowled at Arnold with disgust. Reluctantly, the doors open and Arnold stepped forward, now slightly limping from the pain.

His eyes eventually found her, sitting in the back with her feet propped up. Arnold quickly took in her features – despite the relaxed position, her body looked extremely tense; her arms were crossed along her chest and she was feverishly chewing on her bottom lip. Nothing about her body indicated that it was a good time to confront her.

But as Gerald always told him: he was a bold kid.

Arnold slowly made his way to her seat. With a deep breath, he sat down directly next to her and turned his body inward, essentially trapping Helga in her spot. Helga froze.

"Helga, can we talk?" he whispered to her, despite the fact that they were practically alone in the back of the bus.

"There's nothing to talk about, Bucko. Nothing happened," she huffed, turning her head to face the window, avoiding his eyes.

"Helga, please," Arnold begged. When the blonde girl did nothing to acknowledge him, he gently placed a hand on her arm.

She violently pulled back, frowning. "Keep your paws off me, football head!" she hissed, "I have nothing to say to you!" Helga swung her feet around, stomping them hard on the ground, and stood up in her seat. She pushed past the distressed boy, knocking him off the seat and onto the slushy floor below. As Arnold looked up from his position on the ground, he saw Helga march down the aisle and into an empty seat in the front, scowling face and all.

Arnold sighed and picked himself up off the floor, doing his best to clean off the melted snow that now covered the backside of his jeans. He decided not to confront the girl again, partially in fear of her attitude but otherwise in fear of his safety.

_What have I done?_ he thought to himself, shaking his head.

**And the more she ignores me  
The more I adore her**

**What can I do?  
I'd do anything for her**

A new wave of desperation flooded over Arnold the next day – he needed to talk to her, to set things straight.

He stood in the lunch line, tapping his foot impatiently. There was only one student separating him from Helga, and this was the only opportunity Arnold would have to corner her and tell her the truth. He tapped the teenager in front of him lightly on the shoulder. The boy in question turned and furrowed his eyebrows. "I know you probably wouldn't normally let someone do this," Arnold began, "but…I…I need to cut in front of you in line. Just this one time…you see, there's this girl that I-"

The teen stepped back and held his hands up. "Whatever, dude. Go ahead." His face reflected utter disinterest in Arnold's rant.

Smiling, Arnold thanked him and walked forward. Now directly behind Helga, he watched her reach to grab a pudding cup on the shelf in front of her. She eyed it with suspicion, no doubt questioning its edibility. Shrugging to herself, she placed the dessert on her tray and slid forward, nearing the cash register.

Arnold held his breath and tapped the blonde on the shoulder. She spun around on her toes and Arnold admired her grace. "Go away, Arnold-o," she spat, a frown forming on her face. She immediately turned back, her hair whipping around and almost whacking Arnold in the head.

The old woman working the cash register held her hand out to Helga. "5.50, please."

As Helga dug around in her pocket for the correct amount of change, a hand flew past her toward the cashier, eleven dollars grasped tightly within it. The old woman took the money without hesitation, waving both Helga and Arnold off.

Arnold turned toward Helga once again. She was frozen to the spot, eyes locked on the dollar bills the cashier was haphazardly throwing into the drawer. Searching her face, he noticed a slight sparkle in her eyes. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a smile, his thoughts suddenly drifting to childhood memories; moments where this vulnerable side of Helga finally broke through. "Helga…" he said gently.

The bully blinked rapidly, pulling her gaze away from the register and glaring at the boy in front of her. Grabbing her tray from the counter, she stormed off.

Arnold looked on after her, wondering how he was ever going to get through to her…

**Cause she's bittersweet  
She knocks me off of my feet  
And I can't help myself  
I don't want anyone else  
She's a mystery  
She's too much for me  
But I keep comin' back for more**

**She's just the girl I'm lookin' for**

"Man, Arnold, she is one tough cookie!" Gerald bellowed as the boys walked down the upstairs hallway of the Boarding House.

Arnold sighed. "I just don't know what to do, Gerald." As they neared the end of the hallway, Arnold reached forward and opened the ceiling hatch, revealing a set of worn stairs. Gerald propelled himself up them and barged into Arnold's room, immediately throwing himself on the familiar red couch to his left. Arnold slouched off his backpack and placed it on the ground.

"I dunno, man. Maybe try giving her a call? Girls love it when a guy calls them," Gerald reasoned with a shrug.

Arnold bit his lip, glancing over at the phone on his nightstand. "Worth a shot, I guess…"

**And when she sees it's me  
On her caller ID  
She won't pick up the phone  
She'd rather be alone**

"…Uh, hello?" a drone female voice answered.

Arnold nervously shook his leg as he sat on the corner of his bed. Gerald looked on, now slouched in a seated position on the couch. "Um, hi. Is Helga home?" he squeaked.

He listened as Miriam fumbled with the phone, holding it away from her ear. "Helga!" he heard her call out, "Helga, there's someone on the phone for you!" A few silent moments passed, Arnold waiting patiently for an answer. Miriam's tired voice rang in his ears once again, "Uh…who's this?"

Arnold blinked. "It's Arnold. Tell her it's important."

Miriam mumbled in understanding. Arnold heard the phone thud onto the table and shuffled footsteps walking away. Faint shouting echoed through the earpiece, keeping Arnold's attention as he held the phone closer. He looked over at Gerald, who gave his best friend a hopeful look. Suddenly, the dial tone met his ears, making him wince from the unexpected change of sound and pull the phone away. Slowly placing the telephone back on its receiver, Arnold shook his head at Gerald.

"I'm sorry, Arnold," Gerald sighed. "At least you tried, right?"

The sullen boy glanced at the telephone, not yet ready to give up. "Maybe her mother hung up on accident and Helga just didn't get a chance to pick up?" he tried to reason with himself. Grabbing the phone, he pressed redial and held it to his ear once more…

**But I can't give up just yet  
Cause every word she's ever said  
Is still ringin' in my head  
Still ringin' in my head  
**

"…Um, yeah, hello?" Miriam answered again. Arnold sucked in a breath of air, ready with a response, but at the last second pulled the phone away from his mouth.

Gerald cocked an eyebrow in question. "What are you doing?"

Arnold covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Gerald, I need you to pretend to be Phoebe," the boy begged in a hushed tone.

Gerald threw his hands up in defense. "What? No way, man! I'm not getting tangled up in this crazy mess!"

"Gerald, please! It's the only way she'll answer the phone," Arnold fought back, desperation dripping from his voice. Gerald sighed and walked across the room to his best friend, taking the telephone from his hand.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, Mrs. Pataki!" he mimicked into the phone with a high pitched voice. "This is Phoebe Heyerdahl…uh…can I speak to Helga, please?"

Miriam chuckled lightly into the phone. "Oh…hi Phoebe. Um…yeah, give me a second." Gerald heard the phone pull away from her ear as she yelled upstairs, "Helga! The phone! It's…it's your friend…um, Phoebe!"

Gerald passed the phone onto Arnold as a stern voice boomed from the other side, "Heya, Pheebs. What's up?"

Arnold swallowed hard and his knee began to shake again. "Helga, it's me – Arnold."

He heard Helga suck in a breath, followed by a quick exhale and groan. "What the hell do you want, Bucko? Can't you see that I don't wanna talk to you?"

The blond boy ran a hand through his hair. "Helga, I really need to explain some things -"

A frustrated growl echoed from the other line. "You just don't get it, do you, Arnold-o? Leave – me – alone!"

For the second time that day, the dial tone met Arnold's ears unexpectedly. He sighed and set the phone back on the receiver, now just as frustrated as Helga sounded.

Gerald reached a hand out and clapped Arnold on the shoulder reassuringly. "Now what?" he questioned.

Arnold stood abruptly from his seat on the bed and raced across the room to grab his winter coat. With a fleeting look at Gerald, Arnold huffed, "I have to talk to her. I _have _to!" Seconds later, he was out the door and running toward the Pataki household.

_I can't let her slip away_, he cried to himself.

**She's cold and she's cruel  
But she knows what she's doin'  
Knows just what to say  
So my whole day is ruined  
**

The familiar brownstone stood tall in front of him, a light dusting of snow covering the steps and windowsills. Arnold pulled his coat tighter to his body as a short gust of wind picked up in the air. He glanced upward, knowing by memory which window separated him from the person he needed to talk to most. The light purple curtains were drawn, albeit the small gap between them shimmered with light. Bending down, he carefully scooped up a handful of snow and rolled it into a ball. Arnold stretched his arm back, narrowing his eyes in concentration, and chucked the snowball directly toward her window. It struck the glass light enough as not to break it, but hard enough without going unnoticed.

Seconds later, a hand flung the curtains aside, unlocking the window and heaving the pane upward. A blonde head poked out. "What the…" The confused teen finally caught sight of him on the ground below. Helga made a spectacle of rolling her eyes. "What?" she spat with venom.

"I need to talk to you, _please_!" Arnold squawked, his voice cracking at the last syllable. He threw his arms up, as if he could grab her from the window and bring her down himself. Images of Rapunzel in a tall tower flashed before him, but the boy knew that his blonde-haired affection would never so much as let him touch a piece of her delicate golden locks.

Helga stared down at him for a moment, the dangerous look in her eyes continuing to bore a hole into his football-shaped head. Without missing a beat, she scoffed, slamming the window pane down at lightning speed and disappearing with a huff. The frame shook slightly in response.

Arnold swung his airborne arms to his sides, defeated. Frustration boiled inside of him as he kicked a large snow pile at his feet. The snow stuck to the tip of his boot, beginning to seep through and make his socks wet. _Damn old boots_, he grumbled, his frustration only rising.

A light creak from ahead broke his concentration off his aging footwear. The front door of the Pataki household opened slowly. Helga stood in the doorway, wearing a heavy red sweatshirt, the scowl on her face faltering slightly. "You get one chance, Bucko."

Soaked foot now completely forgotten, Arnold bounded up the stairs of her stoop, careful not to trip on the ice that layered each one. "I never meant to hurt you, Helga," Arnold began, sincerity lining his words. "That drawing, it was just something I did during detention. Nobody was every supposed to see it, let alone start making assumptions about who it was…" He signed, holding his hands up in defense. "You have the wrong idea. I…I do like the girl in the drawing very much. She's…gorgeous. But she's not –"

"But she's not me!" Helga cried. Her scowl returned to its usual intensity, but the fire behind her eyes could not stop the tears from escaping. "I've waited so long for you to finally see, for you to finally realize that I love – no, _loved_ – you, but what do I get in return? A slap in the face! And it hurts, Arnold!" The harsh words hung in the air. Arnold held his breath, both in shock from her admission and fear of what she would say next.

But Helga had one more bullet to fire, one more jab that neither teen was expecting.

"I don't wanna see your face ever again! I HATE YOU."

**Cause she's bittersweet  
She knocks me off of my feet  
And I can't help myself  
I don't want anyone else  
She's a mystery  
She's too much for me  
But I keep comin' back for more**

Hillwood winter winds were always unforgiving. Arnold watched as they whipped around the barren branches of the trees and caused a light dusting of snow to follow in its wake, the fine particles blowing straight into his face. In response, he hunched his body forward and drew his coat closer to his chest. His footsteps pushed onward, not knowing exactly where he was headed, but not really giving a damn either.

Soon, he found himself facing a metal sign advertising the entrance to the city's park. Looking beyond it, he could faintly see other city-goers wandering along the paths that circled around the park. Arnold's eyes locked on a couple not too far away. Their hands were held in a tight grasp through their mittens. Despite the harsh winds, Arnold noticed that both blondes were smiling broadly at one another, clearly too wrapped up in each other to care about the weather. His mind filled with hopeless imaginations of Helga and himself, holding each other close to keep warm in the cold. Arnold ripped his gaze away and sighed. He eventually found a bench to sit on and promptly hung his head in defeat.

_You blew it, Arnold_, he chided himself. _She gave you one chance and you _blew _it_. He shook his head, grimacing. _And she said she loved you! Why didn't you just risk it and ask her out weeks ago when everything was okay?_ He rubbed his palms into his eyes.

After a few minutes of internally beating himself up over the missed opportunity, he lifted his head to the sound of boots crunching in the snow nearby. His eyes slowly traveled upward, from the white boots to the unforgettable thick, pink coat. Her blonde hair was held up in a bun at the top of her head, a few strands loose from the force of the wind. Their eyes locked for a few seconds. He was so entranced by her beauty that he almost didn't notice the sparkle that was once again evident in her bright blue eyes. As quickly as it came, it disappeared behind the layers that her bullying demeanor took years to protect.

Arnold sucked in a breath. _Who's to say something's not there anymore?_ He clenched his jaw in determination and rose from his seat on the bench.

"Helga!" he called out. With the agility and grace that Arnold loved, she pushed forward on the icy path and created a significant distance between them. His feet could not get a good enough grip on the ice below, causing him to stumble numerous times, but he eventually caught up to her. "Helga," Arnold said softly with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Her own hands rolled into tight fists at her sides and she shoved the blond away. "Get off of me," she sneered, her voice low.

Sudden adrenaline rushed through Arnold's body as he snatched her forearm. She spun toward him, more strands of her blonde hair falling out of her bun and into her face, which was now a deep shade of red. Furious blue eyes met solid green ones. Helga growled, "What did I say, Football Head? Don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't -"

Her angry ranting was interrupted by a sharp kiss.

**Cause she's bittersweet  
She knocks me off of my feet  
And I can't help myself  
I don't want anyone else  
She's a mystery  
She's too much for me  
But I keep comin' back for more  
Oh, I keep comin' back for more  
She's just the girl I'm lookin' for  
Just the girl I'm lookin' for  
**

Arnold slowly pulled away from the kiss. He waited as Helga's eyes fluttered open, noticing the shimmer that had caught his attention earlier was back, accompanied by flushed cheeks and parted lips. Arnold let out a small chuckle and rested his forehead against hers. In the back of his mind, he noted how perfectly their bodies fit together.

"Wha…" she stammered in a tiny voice, but he silenced her once more with the feather-light brush of his lips against hers.

"Will you finally shut up so I can tell you the truth?" he half-whispered, breathless from their exchange. Her slow nod encouraged him to continue. Arnold moved to cup her cheek, smiling when she unconsciously nuzzled into his palm. As he spoke, his breath tickled her skin. "Helga, the drawing…it's always been you."

Helga let out a raspy breath, a white puff of cold air surrounding them both. A small smile played on her lips, the same smile that Arnold always dreamed about. His thumb caught a fallen tear against her cheek. "I could never hate you, Arnold," she confessed in a whisper, finally moving her arms from her sides and snaking them around his neck possessively. The couple pressed their bodies closer together, their heat radiating off of one another. "I…I still love you."

Arnold grinned wildly at her words, tilting her head back for another gentle kiss. Reluctantly, he pulled back, their lips smacking from the loss of contact. Green eyes stared lovingly into blue. A shiver traveled down her spine as his hands moved from her face and squeezed her waist. "I love you so much, Helga. Now, how about we get you out of this cold, huh?"

**(Just the girl)  
I'm lookin' for  
(She's just the girl)  
I'm lookin' for  
(Just the girl)  
I'm lookin' for  
Just the girl I'm lookin' for.**


End file.
